Captured
by yellow 14
Summary: The barkeeper's daughter is captured and now she must survive interrogation. Can she hold out against the Erusian interrogators or will she break?


Disclaimer: Don't own and never will.

AN: I have far too many multi-chapter stories on this site that are unfinished so I'm just going to piggyback this story.

AN2: For the purposes of this story, the barkeeper's daughter's name is Rachel Fowler.

Rachel swallowed her fears and slowly crept into position to plant the laser transmitter for detonating explosives. Hidden in the shadows, away from the Erusian's prying spotlights and guards, With a calm precision, she pulled the laser out of her bag, a grey and dull thing that was falling apart at the seams when suddenly she heard a sound behind her and suddenly she turned to come face to face with a young Erusian soldier and he was pointing his G-36 rifle at her guts.

"What are you doing here?" he barked out in very rough San Salvacion and Rachel swallowed hard, her mind working frantically to come up with a reasonable excuse for being caught within an Erusian military supply dump, well within the wire fencing that surrounded the facility.

"Oh I'm sorry, I got lost," she said nervously as she quickly slipped the laser detonator into her hood. "I'm looking for Sergeant Pario. I was sent by the Yellow Squadron crew chief."

"Why are you on your own?" the soldier asked suspiciously. "Surely the office gave you an escort, especially in light of the terrorist activity we've experienced."

"They said I didn't need one," she replied, sweating slightly with fear. She decided it was time to act the scared little girl act that she so hated. She stepped back and widened her eyes so they gave her a rabbit caught-in-the-headlights effect that had worked in the past.

It didn't work. He kept his rifle trained on her and gestured for her to put her hands up and as they walked towards the central offices that ran this facility, Rachel began racking her brains for a means to escape. Getting away from one soldier either by charm or wit or even luck was doable in her book. But once they checked their records and had her inside a building with a good number of armed personnel there, escape would be virtually impossible. She would have to do something. As they approached the spot she had broken in through, she put her plan into motion.

She faked a stumble.

It wasn't much, just enough to make the Erusian soldier catch up with her and prod her with his rifle.

Spinning around quickly, she knocked his rifle barrel aside with her hand and ran for fence. If she was fast enough, she might get through before the guard was able to draw bead on her.

"Halt!" he yelled and she ignored him. She could see the gap up ahead. If she could keep going just a bit longer-

She tripped.

She tripped, somewhat embarrassingly, over the wire cutters she had left there breaking into the camp. It may well have saved her life, although if looks could kill, her captor would have fried her on the spot.

"Resistance scum!" he spat angrily, a scowl across his face. "Only they would resort to using a mere child to do their dirty work!"

Rachel said nothing. At fourteen years old, she was hardly a 'child' Admittedly she had only turned fourteen a few days ago, but she was hardly a child! Instead, she settled for glaring at the young soldier.

"On your feet girl," he ordered, prodding her with his rifle and she stood up slowly. "Put your hands on your head!" Rachel could hardly believe what she was hearing. It sounded as though he was expecting her to suddenly overpower him. She complied and he poked her with his rifle again.

"Move," he ordered and the two of them continued walking.

As the central offices came closer and closer, Rachel felt increasingly sick. There was no doubt they would arrest her parents as a precautionary measure and if they found the wireless encryption system…she didn't even want to think about it.

There were rumours about what the Erusian secret police, the Skiara, did to captured resistance members. Rumours of torture sessions guaranteed to break even the most hardly minds, the strongest resistance. Rachel had never given it much thought or credence. They were a distraction from the job and worst, bad for morale. But as they came closer and closer, those stories were all she could think about. She liked to think she could survive being tortured, imagined that she could hold out, but could she do it when they tortured her mother instead of her? Or the young boy who hung around with the Yellow squadron? Could she condemn them to suffering and torment?

"Keep moving," the guard ordered sharply prodding her with his rifle. He was clearly nervous, she could hear it in his voice. Clearly he was no combat hardened soldier and here he was facing the enemy. Under different circumstances, she might have smiled at him and thrown some friendly, even flirty, banter at him. No wonder he was nervous. They walked into the door of the main office and Rachel lowered her head. Whatever happened to her now, it was out of her hands.


End file.
